Smoke and Tea
by eyesocketsandsuits
Summary: [ England Character Study ; SpUK, Endgame FrUK ] "Because someone like me doesn't need a therapist, Dr. Greene. I am here because I was advised to have my stress—my stress examined, to see at what level it is currently at. However, I've gotten along perfectly well without a therapist for my whole life, and I certainly don't need one now."


**[ does a shot ]**

 **Who wants another multi-chapter ?**

 **There is an OC in this ; she is hugely not important.**

* * *

"Well, I'm sorry Mr. Kirkland," Jen tried again, flipping through her pocket calendar. "I just don't have the time to schedule you in. I rent the room per hour, you see, and while I of course would love to see you—"

"I'm standing outside your office door."

Jen frowned. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkland?"

"Look, I am terribly sorry, but I'm afraid I really need to see you. Trust me, I can triple whatever your pay is per hour. I just…" Kirkland trailed off. He cleared his throat. "I will pay you generously."

Jen's pen hovered over her calendar. Kelly would probably be getting anxious, but Jen supposed she could wait for her food a little longer. Jen massaged her eyes, then stood, walked over to the door.

"Good evening, Mr. Kirkland."

The first thing that struck Jen about this man was that he looked _exhausted_. He looked boney, and drawn, and his eyes were sharp, eyebrows pulled together in a scowl. Cigarette smoke clung about his sweater like a fog.

"Dr. Greene." Kirkland shoved his hand out, but his whole body leaned away from her; he didn't seem to want to be there. "I cannot thank you enough for seeing me on such short notice."

Jen shook his hand—cold and clammy. Nothing she wasn't used to.

"Please, it's no trouble. I'll alert Tanya to your appointment, so she'll arrange your billing—"

"No," Kirkland cut it, eyes elsewhere in the room. "I can pay in cash. To you. There's a reason I came here right before closing, Dr. Greene, and it was to keep this whole affair…" He licked his chapped lips. "This whole affair hush-hush."

Jen was faintly concerned. "I'm… I'm sorry, I'm not quite understanding—"

Kirkland looked at her. "I'm a member of the Royal Family, of a sort. Obviously, I can't delve into specifics, however just be aware that I am important in the political and social fabric of our country."

Surprisingly, this was not the first time a client had told this to Jen.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkland, but I'm afraid I cannot take you on the basis of your word alone—"

"Jennifer Greene, though you prefer Jen, correct? You have a cat, and haven't voted for a few years now. Your father was an immigrant from Norway, while your mother was born here." Kirkland pulled out a package of cigarettes. "I could go into your voting record, if you'd prefer. Your political views. A surprising fan of that upstart chap from Bristol. You would prefer to have more strikes, like France."

Jen swallowed.

Kirkland hit the package, put a cigarette between his lips. "If you couldn't tell, I'm what some would consider a legitimate important fellow."

"No smoking."

Kirkland blinked at her. "I'm sorry?"

Jen pointed at Kirkland's lips. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkland, but it's an office policy."

Kirkland stared at her for a second. Then, he let out a somber little laugh and removed the cigarette from his mouth. "I apologize."

Jen took a deep breath. Released it. She settled into her arm chair, crossed her legs, put her legal pad on her lap. "I'm going to need some information on your medical history. Your parental history."

Mr. Kirkland looked at her, then sat stiffly on the couch. He crossed his legs, but he looked uncomfortable now, shoulders hunched. "I was adopted. No information on my mother nor father." His voice was softer now. Hoarse.

"Surely you could find their names? At the very least their medical history?"

Mr. Kirkland was staring at his hands. "Dr. Greene, you aren't considering that I don't particularly _want_ to find out anything about them."

"You can call me Jen, Mr. Kirkland. May I call you Arthur?"

Kirkland looked at her, and his face pulled into a sneer, lip curling. "I'm afraid you may not."

"Can I ask why?"

"You may not."

Jen shrugged. "Alright. Have you ever seen a therapist before?"

"Of course not," Kirkland spat.

"Why do you say it like that?"

"Like what? Because someone like me doesn't _need_ a therapist, Dr. Greene. I am here because I was advised to have my stress—my stress examined, to see at what level it is currently at. However, I've gotten along perfectly well _without_ a therapist for my whole life, and I certainly don't need one _now_."

Jen nodded. "Okay. Why were you advised to come see me?"

Kirkland stuck his hands in his pockets, removed them. Fingers shaking. "Do you happen to have a way to make tea?"

Jen stood, went over to the Keurig machine, handed him a cup of tea not one minute later. Kirkland took a long swig. He looked out the window as he drank, the light making him look pale. His shoulders slowly sloped.

"Amazing things."

Jen looked up from her notepad. "I'm sorry?"

"Those." Kirkland gestured with his hand back towards the tea machine. "I remember a time when it took a dedicated three minutes. Longer, before …" Kirkland looked back out the window.

"They're relatively cheap."

Kirkland shrugged. "Tea tastes better the old-fashioned way." He finally met her eyes. "I've led a very violent life. I fear my personal relationships may suffer because of it. My—" His jaw clenched. "Someone told me I was, as he said, 'Fucked up.'"

Kirkland's eyes were glazed.

"Can I ask the circumstances behind your friend saying this?"

Kirkland's mouth quirked into a smile; it didn't reach his eyes. "He found me drunk on the floor."

"Do you have a history of alcohol abuse?"

"I enjoy drinking. Perhaps more so when I'm feeling…" Kirkland's eyes had drifted back to his hands. "I'm afraid my intoxicated-self is more pleasant than my sober-self."

"If you don't mind me asking; are you friendlier? It's not unusual to use alcohol as a social-coping mechanism."

Kirkland shrugged. "It makes me feel good."

"Right, of course. Do you feel it improves your relationships?"

Kirkland's eyes drifted back to Jen's. "I'm less of a raging asshole, if that's what you're asking."

Jen recoiled slightly. "No, Mr. Kirkland." She shook her head. "No. There's a common misconception that drinking reveals the true self. Or, sometimes, people claim that a lack of inhibitions is _not_ the true self. I think it's a bit of both. Maybe you want to improve your relationships, but you're not sure of the methods." Jen tapped her pen against the notepad. "We could work on that."

Kirkland blinked. Blinked again, and the scowl reappeared. "Excuse me? I never said I would be returning. Frankly, all I've gotten from this exchange is that you think I have a drinking problem; a factoid about myself I already bloody well knew."

"If you wish to actually get better, Mr. Kirkland, I recommend weekly visits. Perhaps more if your schedule would allow—"

"That won't be necessary, Dr. Greene." Kirkland stood up, already pulling out a cigarette. "I'm afraid I must be leaving you. You will receive a package in a few days with payment for this session."

"Mr. Kirkland—"

"Good day."

Kelly was offended, meowing loudly as soon as Jen walked through the door.

How the hell had Kirkland known about her cat?


End file.
